


The Little Things

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Arguing, Business, Caretaking, Caring, Chaos, Dehydration, Explanations, Fainting, Family Dynamics, Food Issues, Forgetfulness, Hurt/Comfort, Hypoglycemia, In which Jameson forgets things that are important, Introspection, Mid-Canon, Multiple Selves, Nausea, Slice of Life, hunger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 02:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: Jameson doesn’t need to eat much to be satisfied and does his best to convince the others of it, but how much can his metabolism tolerate when he forgets to eat anything at all?





	The Little Things

It wasn’t that Jameson didn’t  _want_  to eat—simply that he never had the stomach to eat much. He was easily satisfied with a few finger sandwiches and a roll on the side, but none of the others seemed to share the same viewpoint. Every time they glanced over at the dinner table and saw that his portion was half the size of theirs, one of them would inevitably speak up and offer to get him seconds as soon as he finished. He would simply offer a polite smile and turn it down.

He knew they were only trying to help because they were concerned, but he genuinely didn’t need it! This wasn’t one of those cases where he felt miserable and wasn’t telling them because he was afraid of being a bother; he just didn’t eat as much. To ease the worry in Chase’s eyes, he’d once joked that maybe it was because he just had a smaller stomach.

That had been a mistake with the resident doctor listening nearby. “The smaller the portion you have, Jamie, the more your stomach shrinks to compensate,” Dr. Schneeplestein explained pointedly, inserting himself into the conversation. “Your tummy eventually is forced to accept little bits and bites of food you give it and then you have less room in there! Is why you feel fuller on less—not because you actually are full but because your tummy has gotten so tiny that it  _can’t_  have more even when it  _wants_  to! Less room means less nutrients! You really ought to take a larger plate than you do.”

 **“Well, at least I can be sure that my vests will continue to fit,”**  Jameson had countered, trying to lighten him up a little. He only managed to draw a frustrated huff from the older Ego before he turned back to his reading.

“This is serious, Jem,” Chase insisted. “Is it just that we don’t have food you like? You’ve gotta tell us! We can go to the shop together and find something!”

 **“No, no, that’s not the case whatsoever! The foodstuff’s perfectly suitable. I simply don’t need as much as the rest of you,”**  Jameson explained patiently, for neither the first time nor the last.

The conversation never had a conclusion; any time he mentioned that he was remotely hungry within the others’ earshot, he would find a heap of granola bars and fruit cluttering the desk in his room. (As soon as the coast was clear, he would promptly take them into town and hand them out to anyone who sat on the street asking for something.) Schneep would immediately stride to the kitchen and begin cooking a meal that would be enough to feed three Jamesons thrice over. The gentleman just did his best to thank them regardless. It was because they cared.

He just needed to be more emphatic, sincere and dedicated about explaining it to them, he told himself as he forced down  _one_  more mouthful so Chase would stop peeking over at him. He didn’t want to waste their resources and he didn’t want to make himself sick trying to eat a whole plate of seconds just to appease them!

That said, even he and his strong metabolism weren’t immune to a raw ache in the stomach as he woke up early this particular morning. He couldn’t go back to sleep hungry, but he wasn’t about to be impolite and eat without the others. He waited until 7:30, their usual breakfast time, but when none of them gave any indication that they were coming to the table, he rose, glancing uncertainly between them as they rushed back and forth.

 **“Are we gathering for a meal?”**  he questioned, though it took nearly fifteen seconds for any of them to notice his speech slide hovering there. It happened to be Schneep.

“ _Jetzt ist keine Zeit zum Frühstücken!_ ” he hollered as he sprinted toward the front door with his collar shirt gaping open and his lab coat flung over his shoulder, unlatched briefcase littering papers in his wake. Jameson automatically jogged to pick them up, but Schneep was out the door before he could offer them.

 **“W-Was that a no?”**  he wondered, staring after him in bafflement.

“Sorry, Jameson, I don’t think we have time for a quiet breakfast,” Jackieboy answered apologetically, zipping up his jumpsuit with one hand and tugging his mask over his face with the other. “I’ve got a meeting with the mayor in—well, I probably should’ve already left—and then I’ve gotta get to my patrols!”

“And I’m off to the drycleaner’s,” Marvin interjected, speed-walking past with his suit folded over his arm. “My show’s at a bigger venue tonight so I need to drop this off for a rush job!”

Jameson wasn’t exactly sure what a drycleaner was, but he didn’t have time to ask before Marvin disappeared after Schneep.

“I’ll see you later!” Jackieboy called kindly, making his exit less than a minute later.

“Has anyone seen my—? Aw, man, I missed ’em!” Chase groaned as he emerged from the hallway, cursing faintly as he glanced around the living room and then the dining room and kitchen. “Jem, I can’t find my hat! I’ve looked all over the friggin’ place and it’s just gone! I don’t know where I could’ve put it!”

 **“Perhaps you should inspect the top of your head,”**  Jameson offered ruefully.

“Wh—?  _Oh_ ,” the vlogger realized, laughing for a moment before whisking Jameson’s hat off his head and giving his hair a thorough ruffling before replacing it. “You’re a lifesaver, buddy. Got a big day of filming but I’ll try to text you and say hi on a break. Bye!”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Jameson set the stack of Schneep’s papers on the dining room table and promptly combed his hair back into shape, but beyond that he wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. This was the first time he could remember that all of them had been gone this early. Jackieboy and Schneep were usually the only ones ever absent from the table. This felt…strange. He needed to find something to do.

In the end, he decided to practice his hand at the television remote. All of the others bickered over it when it came to movie night but he was exempt, given that he didn’t know how to work it. Chase had tried to teach him once and now was a good opportunity to test his memory. After he watched three episodes of a cooking show, however, he accidentally set the audio to French and couldn’t figure out how to change it back. Switching that off and sheepishly wondering if the others would know how to fix it, he opted to lose himself in a good book.

Time passed. Robbie stopped by at one point and leaned curiously over the back of the couch to see if Jameson’s book had any pictures, but eventually he got bored and wandered off again to do…whatever it was he did during the day. Jameson was never exactly sure where he went or what he did while he was there, but he wasn’t sure he would understand Robbie’s answer if he were to ask.

When he’d finished his book, Jameson got up for a stretch, wincing a little at the unusual raw pain in his stomach, only to be distracted as he looked out through the sliding glass door and found that Robbie had somehow made it outside without his knowledge. He was rolling through the freshly planted flowerbed!

Astonished and dismayed, he rushed outside to stop him but thanks to the zombie’s strength, Jameson ended up having an unexpected roll through the flowerbed  _with_  him. After he managed to get up onto wobbly legs, he scolded Robbie thoroughly for getting him dirty and for fighting. Robbie responded with nothing but a pout as he’d brushed down his vest and made his way back inside to shower.

After he got out, Chase happened to text him to see how he was doing and Jameson vented to him for a while. Eventually Chase explained that what Robbie had done was normal and Jameson reluctantly went on a hunt around the house to find him and apologize. Fortunately Robbie had already forgotten the dispute and gave him a simple friendly grin and a pat on the head.

From there, Jameson spent some time doing laundry. His soiled vest and shirt needed a thorough washing and once he saw all of the others’ clothes lying in heaps in the laundry room, he figured he may as well do them a favor and wash those too. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why his hands were trembling as he tried to fold.

Once a few loads of laundry had been done, he glanced at his watch for the first time in hours, eyebrows shooting up.  **“Golly, it’s evening already!”**  As if on cue, a yawn caught him by surprise and he paused, glancing back at his book on the coffee table and then deciding against it.  **“I suppose I ought to take a quick nap before the others come home…”**

Thus he padded softly to his bedroom, burrowing underneath his blankets and hugging one of his pillows to keep him company. He fell asleep within minutes and when the others got home later that night, they figured he must have gone to bed early and didn’t disturb him.

Needless to say, he was disoriented when he woke and peeked out from underneath the covers to see morning light glaring through his window. He’d come in here for a nap, hadn’t he? Was it…yesterday? Where had his sense of time gone? More importantly, why did he feel so sick and cold? As soon as he sat up, his stomach curled in on itself, radiating pain and nausea, and his hands shook even more violently than they last had as he hugged himself, swallowing dryly. His throat hurt almost as much as his stomach; it felt as if it was cracked.

 _Water_. Dr. Schneeplestein said that when he felt sick, water was a good place to start. Kicking aside his sheets, he rose, prying one of his arms away from his abdomen to steady himself as a wave of dizziness swept over him.

Judging by the overlapping chatter he heard from the kitchen, the others were already awake, he noted as he shuffled gingerly down the hall. The smell of flapjacks permeated the air and despite how Jameson liked them, his stomach only ached more fiercely at the thought of them.

Chase was already sipping his coffee at the table when JJ reached the kitchen; he glanced up, smiling brightly. “Hey there! I didn’t get to see you when I got home!”

 **“Apologies,”**  Jameson managed as he passed, skirting past Marvin where he stood in front of the stove and leaning against the counter for balance as he reached for a glass.

“Jamie, are you feeling okay?” Schneep questioned as Jameson turned from the counter toward the water dispenser in the fridge door. “You look the little bit peaky.”

 **“Oh, I—I’m fine,”**  Jameson assured him with a weak smile before returning his attention to the dispenser. The water was icy as it filled the glass, creating condensation under his skin. Just as he lifted it from the dispenser’s ledge, however, his stomach seized up with another sharp cramp. The glass slipped through his fingers, shattering against the floor and causing all of the others to jump.

“Jameson?” one of them called in a warning voice, though he couldn’t tell which one as black mist cascaded through his vision.

 **“’m fine,”**  he repeated faintly, curling into himself.  **“I th-think I need to sit…”**

As soon as the notion entered his head, his body latched onto it, losing all strength and pitching bonelessly forward. He couldn’t find it in himself to recover or even break his fall.

When he drifted back to the waking world, wincing tightly and struggling to move, he was still on the kitchen floor, so it couldn’t have been long since he’d fallen. Pinpricks of pain pulsed dimly from his neck and face but he was on his back rather than his front now, his head pillowed in Marvin’s lap.

“Agh, Jamie,” Schneep exhaled in relief and concern as he leaned over him, swiping his thumb over one of the small cuts the broken glass had left in his face. “The good doctor’s got you, tell us what hurts now.”

“Don’t tell us you were sick all day yesterday when none of us were here to take care of you,” Marvin murmured.

 **“No…N-No, I…My stomach hurts,”**  he managed, the words slurring slightly on his speech slide.

Pursing his lips, Schneep patted around his sides, asking if anything was tender in particular areas and when that didn’t produce any good information, he scooped up his nearest wrist. “Mm, your little heart is racing,” he commented. “And the fingers have a tremble. What did you eat yesterday?”

Jameson paused, blinking dazedly as he considered. In the end, his hesitation went on too long; the expectation on Schneep’s face gradually changed to stern reproach.

“Jamie,” he said sharply.

It was all he  _needed_  to say. Jameson’s next blink was decidedly damper than the last and he tilted his head slightly as Chase knelt, carding a hand through his hair to draw his attention. Though his hand was gentle, his expression mirrored Schneep’s almost exactly.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, Jem: Jackieboy’s gonna get you to your bed. We’re gonna make you a full breakfast, and then I’m going to sit there and feed it to you until all of it is gone,” he instructed lowly. “ _All_  of it. You got that?”

Biting his lip, he nodded minutely, resisting the urge to squirm as Schneep cleared the way for Jackieboy. Despite how he was shaking and the weakness forcing his body limp, Jameson couldn’t help but feel a burst of security as the older Ego lifted him, a burst that softened the hunger pangs in his stomach ever so slightly. Tucking his head against Jackie’s neck, he simply caught his breath for a few seconds before peeking back out at the others.

 **“I might not protest seconds,”**  he admitted softly, to which Chase granted a rueful half-smile.

“I might just give you some.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm almost 100% certain that my own experience with hypoglycemia bled into this, but I'm glad to be one of the few authors I've seen to give it representation. I hope you enjoyed!


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